


The Radstorm

by Spudato



Series: A Friendly Guide to Corvidae [2]
Category: Fallout 3
Genre: F/F, slavers - Freeform, welcome back to 'do you like OCs i love OCs would you like to hear about them being gay'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 15:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12256875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spudato/pseuds/Spudato
Summary: Far up the coast, the Commonwealth isn't the only place that gets trouble with radstorms. Some float south, and others wind up over Paradise Falls.





	The Radstorm

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this fic finished for maybe four months? Maybe more? But it's here now. It's my gay OCs being gay and also being slavers. Enjoy..................

Erin can sense a radstorm coming by a clear fifteen minutes. It’s easy to tell, really - the air gains a crackle to it like discharging static, and geiger counters begin an innocuous tick-tick-tick. Clouds come over thick, the air tinges a sickly green, and fifteen minutes later the lightning always comes.

Paradise Falls is pretty quiet before Erin feels it coming. It’s a lazy day, the pens shut down until the slave count lowers a little, so slavers are either sleeping in, milling about the bar or have left town for a wander. Outside of the occasional shout or start of a scrap, the slaver den is peaceful. Erin and Krowe are taking the opportunity for all it’s worth, sitting on the roof of Krowe’s home to admire the view when something prickles the back of Erin’s neck and she curses softly.

“Radstorm’s comin’.”

Krowe - who was laid down next to her, half-dozing - frowns and sits up, looking about the horizon with a bleary squint. “Is it?”

Erin can forgive her girlfriend the doubt; there’s no real evidence yet, the skies still clear, but Erin’s always been blessed with a good perception of her surroundings and it’s never led her astray before. So, she nods, starting to get up with a grunt.

“Yup. We should head inside, maybe pop some Rad-X.”

The slaver whines, kicking her legs out like a child, but when Erin offers a hand she takes it, letting Erin pull her onto her feet. The roof gives a little under their combined weight, but it’s taken far more abuse before. Besides, there’s no real reason to fear shit breaking when you have a whole legion of slaves to fix it for you.

Erin goes down the ladder first and Krowe follows, the earth crunching beneath their boots once they’re on solid ground again. Naturally, easily, Krowe slips a hand into Erin’s and Erin squeezes tight, liking how their palms fit together. Still, they barely have to take three steps before she can reach for the handle of Krowe’s door, pushing it open with a wail of the hinges.

Previously Krowe’s insisted on it being _their_ place, every reference Erin makes of it being _Krowe’s_ home earning her a jab in the ribs, but she can’t help it yet. Paradise has been good to her, but she’s so used to not having a real place to settle down that feels almost foreign to consider that there’s actually a real home for her somewhere in the wasteland. And it’s here, with a door that squeaks shut and a bed that can hold them both and a sofa with cushions so flattened they might as well not even exist. It has a solid wooden desk where Erin can work on her finances, and a safe that even a mini-nuke probably can’t even touch, and it has these old pin-up nuka girls on the walls and lights hanging on strings crisscrossing the ceiling and it’s _home_ , even though Erin still reckons it’ll take a while before she defaults to thinking of it that way.

Krowe wanders across the room and collapses onto the bed, the springs beneath groaning under her weight, and Erin just grins once the door’s shut again with a push of her shoulder. Days like this, everyone’s pretty lethargic but none more so than Krowe. As soon as inactivity settles in she’s about as useful as a wet sack of flour, whining about wanting something to do but never seeking a solution. She just likes to complain, but it means Erin gets to tease her about it all the time.

As much as she’d like to join her - maybe nap through the storm or something - Erin instead busies herself with rooting through a set of drawers, finding one brimming with medicinal supplies. Cutter would probably be pissed if she knew, but Erin likes having stuff a little more in reach. Besides, Cutter charges way too much for her shit and she knows it, which Erin can respect… but that doesn’t mean she has to play clean about it.

In one corner is an unmarked plastic container, and when Erin shakes it there’s a rattle of pills. Twisting the top of reveals a bunch of familiar, blue-ish pills, and Erin tips out two before putting the bottle back, closing the drawer with one knee. Krowe doesn’t even open her eyes when Erin approaches the bed, so she just balances one of the pills on her girlfriend’s forehead instead, watching eyebrows wrinkle at the intrusion.

“Rad-X, babe. Don’t wanna start growin’ a third arm, do ya?”

Krowe grunts and opens her eyes, snatching the pill from her face. “Might help pass the time.”

Rolling her eyes, Erin pops the pill in her mouth and swallows before the bitter medicine can start dissolving. Radstorms never bother anyone too much, but Erin really doesn’t like needles and tries to avoid using RadAway as much as physically possible. Besides, Rad-X is cheaper and way easier to obtain, so better to take the precaution than the cure, as her mother would say.

Krowe takes her own pill - grimaces at the taste - and then falls back onto the bed with a stretch. “You sure there’s gonna be a storm?”

Picking at dirt lodged beneath a nail, Erin just shrugs. “Sure feels like it. Wind’s blowin’ south, south-west too - ever noticed radstorms only ever come by on a southern breeze?”

There’s a pause, and Krowe sits up suddenly, frowning. “They do?”

Erin can’t stifle a grin; it’s not the most obvious fact, sure, but it always surprises people to hear. “Sure do. Accordin’ to a friend of mine the storms originate from this place up the coast called the Commonwealth? She went there once, said there’s this whooooole bit that’s just one neverendin’ radstorm.”

Thick brows quirk upwards and Krowe’s eyes light up in wonder. Erin continues, “so when a wind comes along, it picks up bits of the storm and carries it wherever. Means the whole Commonwealth is plagued by the fuckers. Guess it’s lucky we see so few as we do.”

The friend in question is Ellie, and she’s been all over. She liked to tell tall tales, sure, but Erin believed her on most days. She’s been from coast to coast, feet taking her just about anywhere someone could get in the wasteland, and the detail in all her stories proved it. Even if they _weren’t_ so true, it gave enough of a solid explanation for the damn radstorms that Erin repeated it word for word anyway. It seems Krowe trusts her story too, because she doesn’t even contest it when she props herself up on her arms.

“Damn. That must suck some serious ass.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, give it like ten minutes and a storm’ll be here. Probably be a long one too.”

Holding out her arms and wiggling her fingers, Krowe motions for Erin to join her on the bed with a smile. Once the trader’s weight settles by hers Krowe’s quick to wrap her arms around Erin’s slender waist, tucking herself into Erin’s side with a murmur. “You’re so clever. How do you know all these things?”

Another shrug, Erin taking off her cap to throw it onto a side table. “Picked it up, y’know. You learn a lot of shit on the road.”

Krowe hums, her fingers idly rubbing against Erin’s shirt. “You’re very perceptive too. Good trait for a slaver, that.” Then, she glances up, catching cool green with melting brown. “You know we have a name picked out for you already, yeah?”

Erin chuckles, low and smooth, and she presses a kiss to the top of Krowe’s head. “Uh-huh?”

Krowe’s fingers pause, and then continue, slower this time. “I’m just saying.”

She knows what Krowe means, but she doesn’t have an answer yet. Sure, it’d be easy in theory; she has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the local settlements for miles around, and Erin’s a familiar face to most of the residents. She’s persuasive, a crack-shot with a gun and in Krowe’s own words, _perceptive_. Even Eulogy’s made hints once or twice, tracing the lines between slavers and merchants and muttering something about how similar they truly are. Living with Krowe, catching slaves, living in a place nobody would dare try and destroy… it sounds idyllic. But…

“I know, but I- hm. I don’t think I’m slaver material?” Pulling away, Erin puts her arms around Krowe’s shoulders, keeping her close. “Like, I get why you do it, ‘n’ why Rayven and Jakdaw do it too, but I think I’m suffering from one final thread of good in me that doesn’t really wanna get my hands into stuff like that, y’know?”

Krowe hums again, a little lower this time, and she tilts her head up for a kiss that’s eagerly followed by a second. “I know, you’ve said. Kinda implies you don’t think there’s any good in me, though.”

“Pft. Don’t be like that.” Erin can see the bait, and she’s not rising for it. “I’m saying my _specific_ thread of good is tellin’ me slavin’ is still kinda shitty. I dunno - I mean, they’re my customers.”

Krowe tries to look hurt, and then fails when she grins. “True. Then again, that’s kinda why I like you. Compared to these assholes, you’re a breath of fresh air.”

“I try.” Erin stills finds it funny that her _thread of good_ doesn’t quite extend to making her not fall head-over-heels for a slaver, though. It’s not just ‘cause Krowe is gorgeous - which she absolutely is, _holy shit_ \- but Krowe’s funny and refreshingly dry and she’s just _fun_ to be around. She’s just as much of a breath of fresh air for Erin as she is Krowe’s.

When Krowe leans in for another kiss Erin’s all but happy to oblige her, one hand slipping from her shoulders to cup the smooth angle of her jaw instead. Krowe’s hands slide to Erin’s ribs, fingers digging into the lean muscle there, and the first swipe of her tongue makes Erin shiver head to toe. She likes touching Krowe, likes kissing Krowe, just likes being able to hold her like this whenever she wants, and the urge to make it clear forces a rumble in her chest that might be a moan or a growl.

Pushing Krowe back down onto the bed is so easy, because she’s so much smaller than Erin is; there’s only half a head of difference, sure, but Krowe is light as a feather and even more slight. Erin’s other arm unwinds from behind Krowe’s neck, instead coming to grasp at one of her wrists, pulling it from her body to pin it to the mattress instead. It’s so easy, too easy, to want to tug at her clothes and slide her palms on her skin, to feel the way Krowe writhes under her touch, the way her gasps catch in her throat-

Outside, there’s a crackle that isn’t lightning. It’s more erratic than that, sounding more like an exposed live wire. Erin pulls away to glance at the door, and then back to Krowe again, who looks like she’s a step away from ecstasy.

“Sounds like you were right,” she breathes, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “So clever.” Her free hand comes up to trace along Erin’s cheekbone to ghost over the skin, and when Erin firmly grips her hand, squeezing deliberately, she doesn’t even struggle. Too content to let Erin have her way.

There’s a voice outside, yelling over the burgeoning storm and loud enough to get through the door. “Radstorm! Everybody inside!”

There’s a breathy laugh, and then Krowe looks over to the drawer where Erin got the Rad-X from, pupils blown and wanting. “... Think we should get high on Jet and just watch the storm on the roof?”

Erin grins, lets Krowe’s hand go, and then leans down to kiss along her neck. She can just make out another crackle of the storm, the wind starting to pick up and whistle through the buildings outside.

“Sounds like a date.”


End file.
